


Already Home

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Pets, Reunions, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leftover Advent Prompt #1: It's 3 am and Brian seems to be terribly sick. So, Chris is taking him to the emergency vet and is worried sick and close to panicking over losing Brian. And there is only one person he immediately thinks of calling: Darren. (Spoiler alert: Don’t worry, Brian will be fine.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Already Home

**Author's Note:**

> Because I had many more Advent prompts submitted than I could write in the lead up to Christmas and this one was calling my name this week. There may be more of these to come :) Many thanks to ticklishblaine for the quick beta read.

Darren doesn’t pick up until the fifth ring of the third call, bleary eyed, totally disoriented, and still half in some vaguely pleasurable dream. He can’t really remember the details but he wishes he could, since it’s the first happy dream he’s had in weeks, if not months. In the space between prying one eye open enough to push the accept call button and the call actually connecting, his sleep-slowed brain realizes that the call is from Chris. Suddenly, Darren is eager to be pulled out of his good dream and into reality, because talking to Chris will always be the best part of Darren’s day.

However, it’s a little jarring to hear from Chris in the middle of the night given that they are almost a month into their latest relationship hiatus. It’s not a break-up, strictly speaking, and Darren hopes it never will be. That hasn’t made it any easier, unfortunately; it’s still tough and lonely and thousands of miles away from the life Darren wants for himself. They still talk now and then, usually no more than once a week, but it’s not the same. All day, practically every day, everything Darren sees reminds him of Chris, but when it comes time to talk, his mouth goes dry and the words stick in his throat. Darren wants to tell Chris the thousands of clever anecdotes and memories of Chris that litter his daily experience, but he can’t seem to turn off the part of his brain that keeps warning him: _don’t say something stupid, don’t mess this up any more than you already have or Chris will be gone for good_.

“Darren?” Chris gasps into the phone the second the call connects.

“Yeah, Chris. Hey,” he manages, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glances over at his alarm clock, shocked to see that it’s half past three in the morning. _Huh._ “Everything okay?”

“No,” Chris replies, almost before Darren can finish the question. “Where are you? Please tell me you’re in Los Angeles.”

“Uh,” Darren stalls for a moment as he flips on the lamp on the nightstand. He’s pretty sure the answer is yes, but he’s traveled so much in the past two months (endlessly, and in Darren’s opinion, pointlessly since it’s not in pursuit of jobs he’s all that excited about) that he still gets disoriented every time he wakes up, especially in the middle of the night. He sees a familiar framed portrait of him with his family at Rosemary’s christening, confirming with relief that he is home. “Yeah, I am. Just got back this afternoon. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Chris chokes out.

“I’m going to need you to be a little more specific,” Darren presses as he sits up fully and roots around for his glasses since he’s half-blind without them.

“I don’t... I probably shouldn’t have...” Chris trails off, sniffling.

“C’mon Chris, just tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen to you? Or Hannah? Or...?” Darren lets the rest of the question hang in the air, unwilling to continue playing the world’s worst guessing game. It feels like all he’s accomplishing is reminding Chris of other things he should worry about and that seems incredibly unhelpful when he’s meant to be helping.

When Chris doesn’t reply, he tries again. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Chris manages, still sniffling pitifully.

“Liar,” Darren says, though there’s no heat behind it.

“Okay, maybe a little,” Chris finally admits, his voice sounding slightly calmer.

“So...” Darren prompts after another tedious moment of quiet. He’s never been great with silence, especially not when there’s obviously something pressing at hand that involves Chris.

“It’s Brian,” Chris whispers shakily.

“Oh,” Darren breathes. _“Shit.”_

“I didn’t know who else to call. I know we’re supposed to be... taking a break or whatever,” Chris manages, his tone steeped in bitterness. “But...”

Darren hopes Chris’s bitterness is reserved primarily for the situation and not for him directly, but he’s not sure he could blame Chris if it was an even fifty-fifty split. “But?” he prompts warily.

“But you were the only one I wanted to call,” Chris says bluntly. “I thought... I _hoped_ you’d understand.”

“I do,” Darren swears. It’s the truth. “What’s wrong with Brian?”

“I don’t know,” Chris replies, panic seeping into his voice again. “He’s seemed kinda off all day and really... listless? He hasn’t eaten his food from either his morning or evening meal and you know how he never skips a meal. I tried giving him a treat to see if he’d maybe eat that instead and he did, but then he threw it up not long after he ate it. Plus, he’s barely moved from his spot all day and then about an hour ago he woke me up yowling so pathetically like he was in pain. And I just... something’s wrong, Darren. I know it is and I can’t-”

“Okay hey, easy, Chris,” Darren interrupts. “Let’s just take a breath. I know you’re worried, but I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Chris sighs. “You can’t know that. What if he’s really sick or even dying?”

“Brian? Nah, he’ll outlive us all,” Darren insists, full of conviction.

Chris lets out a muffled squeak, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“So, I assume you’ve got a good after hours vet picked out?” Darren checks, already pulling on his jeans.

“Yeah, I do, it’s just clear across town and I was so upset I wasn’t sure if I could or should drive in this state and-”

“And you didn’t want to do it alone,” Darren fills in helpfully.

“Exactly,” Chris says softly, like it’s some shameful confession. Darren wonders if it might be, at least from Chris’s perspective. “Plus, I’ve missed you.”

That’s an admission Darren hadn’t been expecting, at least not so soon. It’s enough of a surprise that he pauses in putting on his shoes, awkwardly hopping on one socked foot while he swallows hard against the growing lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you, too. I’ll be there in twenty minutes to pick you up, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris responds, voice thick with relief. Darren is about to hang up the phone when Chris blurts something else out. “Crap - wait, what about your allergies?”

It’s a valid concern, since Darren can tolerate about five minutes around cats at most before his allergy kicks in full force and he’s a sneezing, wheezing mess of a human being. The only reason he was able to stay at Chris’s house for months on end without dying is the steady diet of antihistamines Chris force fed him. But mostly, Darren’s just touched that even in the middle of the night when he’s half insane with worry about his pet, Chris is still thinking of Darren’s comfort.

“Uh, I don’t think I have any allergy medicine here. You know, since I just got back home and haven’t exactly been to the store to stock up yet,” Darren admits sheepishly.

“Please, like you _ever_ manage to drag your ass to the grocery store,” Chris teases. “You just enjoy living like a college frat boy, I think.”

“I mean, why go to the grocery store when you can have takeout delivered instead?” Darren agrees. He takes a deep breath before asking, “Do you happen to still have that stash of allergy meds at your place?” It’s a silly question to get so nervous about, but once upon a time the allergy medicine section of Chris’s medicine cabinet was solely reserved for Darren. He doesn’t want to make any assumptions about what it will mean if Chris has already cleared it out, but he doubts it can mean anything good.

“Of course I do,” Chris answers instantly.

Darren lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Do you mind bringing me a couple of Claritin? Or alternatively like, an entire box of Kleenex? Because me and the vet’s office - not exactly a match made in heaven.”

“I remember,” Chris says and Darren can hear this smile in his voice through the phone. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

* * *

Per his request, Darren texts Chris the second he pulls into the driveway, though it hardly seems necessary since Chris is shooting out of his front door with Brian’s pet carrier in hand before the text even shows that it’s been delivered to Chris’s phone.

Darren hits the button to unlock the car door. Chris’s arm enters the car before the rest of him does, offering up a bottle of water and a travel packet of allergy medication. “I figured you should take it before we get in,” Chris explains, voice muffled through the half open door.

Darren rolls his eyes fondly but accepts them both from Chris. He quickly tears open the packet and dumps both pills into his mouth and swallows them down with a swig of water. “Coast is clear,” he sing-songs once he’s finished.

Chris opens the door fully and slides in. He’s wearing gray cotton sweatpants, a blue t-shirt, and his glasses. He’s got several days worth of stubble going, hair styled in a very messy bedhead, and red, puffy eyes. Chris is a mess, really, but he still looks nothing short of amazing to Darren. It takes Darren a moment to recognize that Chris is also wearing a nondescript black hoodie that technically belongs to Darren, though at this point it’s not so much his as theirs. Seeing Chris all curled up in it makes Darren’s heart clench in his chest. It’s half hope and half fear, because Darren’s learned the hard way that too much hope can sometimes be a dangerous thing.

“Hey,” Chris greets him after a moment, still fussing with Brian’s carrier and avoiding direct eye contact.

“Hey yourself,” Darren responds. He wants to give Chris a hug, but with Chris barely looking at him he winds up splitting the difference and just squeezing Chris’s shoulder soothingly. “It’s good to see you... you know, despite the circumstances.”

Chris finally looks up at him, managing a tentative smile. “Yeah, good to see you, too.” He looks like he wants to say more but then Brian starts yowling pathetically through the mesh window of his pet carrier, reminding them both of the situation at hand.

“Yikes, he _does_ sound miserable,” Darren remarks, frowning.

“I know, right?” Chris sighs, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Do you mind if I take him out and put him in my lap? He really hates being in this stupid carrier.”

“Of course, that’s fine by me. Just hang onto him while I’m driving, yeah?” Darren requests. “Do you know where we’re going, by the way?”

Chris nods and retrieves his phone from the pocket of the hoodie. He pulls up the vet’s contact info and then passes it over to Darren who quickly plugs the address into his car’s GPS. While the route is calculating, he looks over and watches Chris carefully unfurl an old, bleached out towel on his lap before unzipping the side of the pet carrier and retrieving Brian. “Shh, there you go, buddy,” Chris soothes. Brian’s yowls turn into quieter mewls of pain as Chris gently settles the cat in his lap.

“I figured I should probably have the towel ready just in case, since he’s already puked on my duvet twice today,” Chris explains to Darren as he pets Brian’s head.

“My car’s interior thanks you in advance,” Darren chuckles softly.

“Just following the old Boy Scout motto.”

Darren shifts the car into reverse and backs his car down Chris’s driveway. “Oh really now? And what would that be?”

“Always be prepared.”

* * *

Darren watches Chris fidget in his seat in the veterinarian’s waiting room, unable to stay still for more than a moment. Chris bites the nails on his right hand down to tiny nubs, his gaze flickering back and forth between the clock on the far wall and the door that leads back to the treatment rooms where Brian is currently being evaluated. Darren wants to intervene, to find the right words to reassure Chris that it will all be okay, but everything he comes up with sticks in his throat. He doesn’t want to make any promises that he can’t keep. Not with Chris, not after everything they’ve already been through lately.

Darren’s still weighing his options for how to proceed when Chris leans forward and buries his face in his hands with a whimper, making it impossible for Darren to stay still or silent any longer.

“Chris,” he sighs as he drapes his arm across Chris’s back and tugs him nearer. “Hey, come here.”

Chris sniffles but allows himself to be lead into the familiar embrace with his head resting on Darren’s shoulder. Darren presses a kiss to the top of Chris’s head before settling his cheek against Chris’s hair. He squeezes Chris’s shoulder soothingly and then lets his fingers lightly trail up and down Chris’s bicep. Comforting Chris is almost second nature to Darren at this point; it feels just like coming home.

They sit in silence for several minutes, all tangled up in one another. It feels right, but there’s still that niggling doubt trying to intrude on Darren’s peace. He can’t help but wonder if he is what Chris still wants or needs. But before those doubts and fears have a chance to overwhelm him, Chris reaches out and picks up his hand, lacing their fingers together and dropping their intertwined hands back to Darren’s lap, almost as if he’s reading Darren’s mind.

Even though no words are exchanged, Darren feels much more at calm and grounded now. The last few months have brought with them abundant uncertainty, leaving Darren in perpetual motion but always slightly uneasy at his core. But in this moment, with Chris beside him, Darren’s certain he’s right where he belongs. It’s something he and Chris have always been good at: communicating without words. It’d been a necessity in those heady early days of their relationship, when they were almost always being watched on set or at public events. When sometimes all they were allowed was a moment of charged eye contact or the brush of a hand on the small of the back. When a private smile or quick glance could communicate volumes. Darren’s never had that with anyone else but Chris and he doubts he ever will. If he believed in the existence of soul mates, the way he connects with Chris nonverbally would be the number one reason why.

* * *

Darren’s been drifting for nearly ten minutes when the sensation of dampness against his thin Henley shirt pulls him back to reality. He lifts his head so he can gaze down at Chris who wipes a few tears from his cheek and looks away sheepishly.  

“Hey now, none of that,” Darren gently chastises.

“Sorry,” Chris murmurs. “I’m being stupid.”

“You, stupid? Never,” Darren insists, squeezing Chris’s hand.

“I just can’t stop thinking - what if he’s really sick and the vet wants to put him to sleep or something? I don’t think I could bear it, Darren,” Chris admits, teary-eyed.

“That’s not going to happen. There are a million things it could be that aren’t that serious. Hell, he probably just has the cat equivalent of the flu or mono or whatever. Do cats get mono? And if they do, how could you tell? Do they go from sleeping twenty hours a day to twenty-three hours a day or what?” Darren babbles.

Chris snorts. “I think Brian’s _always_ slept twenty-three hours a day. And the only reason he even manages to stay awake for a full hour a day is so that he can eat, let’s be real.”

“I think you’re being generous in saying he’s awake for a whole sixty minutes a day,” Darren comments idly.

“I’m rounding up,” Chris agrees, sniffling.

“Touché,” Darren chuckles. He studies Chris’s face for a moment before wiping away the remaining tears tenderly with the back of his hand.

Chris locks eyes with him, biting his lip. Something in the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible for Darren to look away. “I’ve really missed you,” Chris confesses.

Darren feels the familiar fluttering in his stomach, half nerves and half sheer relief. He takes a steadying breath, cups Chris’s cheek, and kisses his forehead. “I’ve really missed you, too,” he whispers.

As he pulls back, Darren sees that Chris’s eyes are filling with tears again. It’s pretty much the opposite of what he was going for. Darren sighs in helpless frustration, not knowing what else to do.

“Darren,” Chris murmurs, a silent plea for help even though no request follows it.

“I’m here,” Darren reminds him. “Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask, okay?”

Chris studies Darren’s face, looking for any sign of hesitance or uncertainty. “I think I need...” he begins, seemingly struggling for the words, “...a distraction.”

Darren nods immediately, though that still doesn’t give him much to go on. “A distraction?” he repeats, trying to work out what Chris really wants. It’s sort of hard to focus when Chris wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and leans in, almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah,” Chris whispers, nearer still. This close, Darren can see the tiny droplets of moisture clinging to Chris’s eyelashes, can feel Chris’s warm breath against his cheek. He thinks he might even be able to hear the pounding of Chris’s heart, though it’s possible that it’s just his own, hammering away in response to the palpable tension in the air. Darren takes a deep, steadying breath, readying himself to say something more, but then Chris’s lips are crashing into his with such force that it punches all the air out of his lungs.

Darren’s muscle memory kicks in almost immediately and then he’s kissing Chris back with everything he has in him. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up with his body, however. Even when his neurons begin firing once more, his mind doesn’t make it much farther than noting, _holy shit, I’m finally kissing Chris again_. And then more importantly, he realizes with awe that it’s _Chris_ who initiated the kiss and _Chris_ who’s still kissing him back eagerly. It’s more than he would have dared to hope for an hour ago.

Darren’s hands cup Chris’s face, fingers gliding over tear stained cheeks, while he feels Chris’s fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and tug. It’s all Darren can do to hang on then, whimpering softly into the kiss while his tongue slicks wetly against Chris’s.

Darren knows it’s only been a month since they went on their relationship hiatus, but _god_ , he’s missed this. He’s missed every part of Chris and the life they’d built together, really. And now that he has Chris right beside him again and is kissing Chris again, he never wants to stop. He’s trying really hard to temper his hopes for a reconciliation, because it’s impossible to know what part of this is Chris being scared of losing his pet and needing comfort and distraction and what part is Chris being scared of losing Darren.

Chris is the one to end their kiss, far too soon for Darren’s liking. He makes his displeasure known with an involuntary whine of protest as he chases after Chris’s lips. Chris presses their foreheads together and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I wasn’t done kissing you yet,” Darren pouts, stroking Chris’s cheek.

“Sorry,” Chris murmurs hoarsely.

“You okay?”

“Better now,” Chris admits, then steals forward for a quick peck on the lips. “I know we’re sort of doing things in the wrong order and we definitely still need to have a real talk in the near future, but I’m not going to be able to even _think_ straight until I know that Brian’s going to be okay.”

“I get that. And for the record, I’m not asking you for anything right now. Not expecting anything in return either,” Darren swears.

“Okay,” Chris breathes, shoulders slumping in obvious relief. “Then for now, can we just... keep being us?”

Before Darren can respond, Chris is speaking up again, all the while nervously picking at his cuticles and avoiding direct eye contact. “You know, since you asked earlier what I needed and said all I had to do is ask? Well, I think I figured it out now. That’s what I need. It’s what I want. So, this is me asking like, officially,” he rambles.

Darren winds up silencing Chris with another kiss. He’s never been that good with words.

* * *

It’s nearing four-thirty in the morning when a young vet tech in green scrubs pokes her head into the waiting room. “Did you bring in Brian Colfer?” she checks, consulting the folder in her hands.

Darren nods eagerly and shakes a dozing Chris awake. “Hey Chris, it’s finally our turn,” he announces.

“Darren?” Chris says as he sits up with a start, wiping at the corner of his mouth. “Um, I think I drooled on your shoulder. Sorry,” he apologizes. He stands on shaky legs and makes his way over to the woman at the door, eyes wide with fear. Darren has to jog to catch up with them.

“Is Brian okay?” Darren hears Chris asks fearfully.

“He should be fine,” the tech chirps cheerfully as she leads them down a short hallway. “I’ll let the vet give you all the gory details, though.”

Darren sees Chris’s legs wobble and rushes forward to throw a steadying arm around his waist. “Are _you_ okay, hon?” he whispers in Chris’s ear.

“Yeah, just clumsy,” Chris mumbles, leaning into Darren’s embrace gratefully. Darren shoots him a skeptical look, not convinced. “Okay fine, I should also maybe get something to eat when we leave here? I may have skipped dinner. And also lunch,” Chris finally admits sheepishly.

Darren shoots him a glare. “Christopher Paul Colfer, you can’t just go skipping two out of three meals in a day. Breakfast may be the most important meal, but it’s not the _only_ meal, okay?”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Chris groans, rolling his eyes. “I was just a little distracted, first with writing and then because of Brian. It wasn’t on purpose or anything, I swear.”

“Well, if you pinky swear, I guess I’ll let it slide, just this once,” Darren hums, kissing Chris’s cheek. He knows he’s being insanely affectionate, but in his defense, he’s got a month’s worth of missed affection to make up for. Also, Chris isn’t complaining, at least not so far.

“You are a ridiculous human being,” Chris mock grumbles.

“Takes one to know one,” Darren shoots back. It’s not his best comeback, but it’s either extremely late or extremely early depending on one’s point of view and he’s not feeling particularly witty at the moment.

“Okay, we’re going to be headed right in here,” the vet tech directs, holding open a door marked exam room four.

On the other side of the door, there’s another vet assistant with one hand on Brian to keep him from bolting out of the room and a middle-aged woman in a white coat that Darren assumes is the veterinarian. Chris immediately rushes over to the exam table to pet Brian and cluck sympathetically. Darren hangs back with the intention of letting Chris handle the consult with the vet, but then Chris turns back in his direction and shoots him a pleading look that he can’t ignore.

Darren’s grateful for the look, ultimately, because he needs that subtle reminder about Chris’s tendency to clam up in tense or awkward social situations, especially with people he’s never met or when he’s already feeling particularly anxious. It’s something that Darren would normally be attuned to more quickly if he weren’t so painfully exhausted and unbalanced in trying to remember exactly where his relationship with Chris sits at any given moment. He makes his way over to Chris and is rewarded with Chris immediately grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Darren asks, getting straight to the point, since it seems like if he doesn’t initiate the conversation, it may never begin.

“Are you the owner?” the vet inquires of Darren. “Mr. Colfer?”

“No, he’s the owner,” Darren clarifies, inclining his head towards Chris. “I’m the... uh...”

“He’s the boyfriend,” Chris finishes for him. Darren’s not sure if it’s a lie for simplicity sake or if he’s gotten a massive promotion in the last hour, but either way, it still makes his heart race and his stomach flip a little to hear those words out of Chris’s mouth again. “I’m Chris. He’s Darren.”

“Nice to meet you both,” the vet greets them. “So, it’s a good thing you brought Brian in when you did.”

Chris’s fingers dig into Darren’s hand, just on the wrong side of painful. He inhales sharply and opens his mouth as if to speak but no sound comes out.

Darren waits a beat and then asks, “Why’s that?” for both of them.

“Well, he had a severe UTI that led to a kidney infection. It’s a fairly common condition in cats, but if left untreated for too long, it can lead to long-term issues like kidney damage. I think in Brian’s case, we caught it just in time.”

“Oh, that’s... good, right?” Chris manages. “I mean, the kidney infection is treatable?”

“It is. He should be just fine after some fluids and antibiotics,” the vet agrees. “Long term, there are probably some lifestyle changes to consider like changing the litter box more frequently and possibly switching to a different food that’s easier for his kidneys to process, but those are all things you can discuss with Brian’s regular vet.”

“That’s great news,” Darren comments. He looks over at Chris whose face is creased in worry, as if he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Did you get all that, Chris? Mainly the Brian being okay part?” he checks, rubbing his back soothingly.

Chris exhales a shaky breath and nods. “Yeah, I think so. What do we need to do next?”

“Well, I’d recommend keeping him here so we can give him an IV,” the vet begins.

Darren winces in sympathy. “Ouch, sorry about that, buddy,” he whispers in apology to Brian as he scratches behind his ears. He zones out a little while the vet continues explaining the treatment to Chris.

“...all in all, it’ll probably take about six hours. Assuming he’s doing better at that point, we can send Brian home with you and you can give him medication at home. How does that sound?” the vet finishes a minute or two later.

“That sounds good,” Chris murmurs, body slumping in obvious relief.

Darren smiles and bumps shoulders with Chris as he nods. “Couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

As he pulls into Chris’s driveway, Darren starts feeling uneasy again because he just doesn’t know what to expect. He may be weary from the night’s activities, but still, Darren doesn’t want things to end here. He doesn’t want to go back home alone where only a cold, empty bed awaits him. And most of all, he doesn’t want to endure another month, week, or even day waiting to hear from Chris. He’s not sure how he could go back to pretending he’s okay with that when every cell in Darren’s body is screaming out in protest.

However, even though it pains him, Darren tries to shove down his own feelings in favor of playing it cool. “We have arrived, good sir,” he announces, putting on a phony chauffeur accent for good measure. _No reply._

He shifts the car in park and looks over at Chris, surprised to find him fast asleep with his legs curled up beneath him on the seat and his head pillowed against his arms resting on the console between them. Watching Chris sleep obliviously stirs something in Darren’s chest and before he knows it, he’s reaching over to brush a lock of hair off Chris’s forehead.

Chris’s nose twitches adorably as he starts to come around, blinking slowly up at Darren.

“Hey sleepyhead, we’re home now,” Darren murmurs.

“Oh?” Chris slurs, still seeming dazed. “Yours or mine?”

“Yours.” Darren runs his fingers through his hair, suddenly nervous for no real reason. “I figured you’d probably want to, uh...” he trails off, not really sure how to finish the statement. Chris nods, though Darren’s not exactly sure what he’s confirming.

When Chris doesn’t make a move, Darren decides a little help might be in order. “Where are your keys?”

“Bag thingy,” Chris says, gesturing towards the messenger bag at his feet as he breaks off into a yawn.“ One of the pockets, probably.”

“Okay,” Darren says, more to himself than Chris. “Yeah um, why don’t I give you a hand?” He climbs out of the driver’s seat so he can walk around and open Chris’s door for him.

Chris is still slumped in the seat just like Darren left him, though he sits up with a start at the gust of cool air that hits him at the opening door. “Just have to stay awake long enough to make it your bed, okay?” Darren encourages.

“Or you could carry me?” Chris suggests optimistically, eyes barely open. “I’m so sleepy.”

“We’ll see, killer,” Darren chuckles. He reaches and down plucks Chris’s bag off the floorboard. He spends far too long rooting around blindly for the house keys before his fingers finally close around the cold metal. “Success,” he cheers as he slings the bag over one shoulder and grabs for Chris.

“Up and at ‘em, kid,” Darren sing songs as he loops Chris’s arm over his neck and tugs him to his feet.

“I am up,” Chris whines, leaning heavily into Darren. “Right?”

“You are. Good job,” Darren congratulates. He pauses at the threshold of Chris’s house, fumbling to unlock the front door one-handed without losing his grip on Chris.

Chris nuzzles his face into the side of Darren’s neck and shivers. “Cold,” he mumbles.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re going inside where it’s warm,” Darren shoots back, sighing with relief when he feels the lock finally give way. He opens the door and ushers Chris inside. “After all, there’s no place like home.”

“Not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Chris slurs, nearly tripping over a pair of discarded loafers in the entryway.

“Careful,” Darren warns. “Might be a little easier to see where you’re going if you say, opened your eyes?”

“Can’t you do that - be my seeing eye dog or whatever?” Chris whines in petulant exhaustion.

“Sure,” Darren agrees easily, leading them both towards the staircase. He’s always had a not so secret affinity for the way most of Chris’s usual defenses give way when he’s sleepy. Chris has never been one to take pleasure in needing to be taken care of, but that all goes out the window whenever he’s truly worn out. Darren can fondly remember many a night with Chris nodding off on his shoulder or curled up in his lap like a cat who wanted nothing more than warmth and closeness. Taking care of Chris now is equal parts reassuring and painful since it reminds Darren of all he’s been missing out on over the last month.

Despite Darren’s protestations to contrary, escorting Chris up the stairs proves a difficult task since he’s half carrying Chris’s dead weight up an incline. “Remember when you used to joke about putting in an elevator? Definitely think it would be worth it,” Darren huffs with exertion as he lugs them both up the last couple of stairs.

“Gonna get an old person stair lift instead. Way cheaper,” Chris grumbles.

“Ah yes, then your octogenarian transformation will be complete,” Darren giggles, picturing it.

“I feel at least eight years old right now, so...” Chris trails off and yawns again. “Are we there yet?”

“You know, I’m pretty sure no one has super glued your eyelids shut, so you could probably check that for yourself,” Darren points out. “But yes, nearly there,” he announces as he leads Chris into his own bedroom and gently deposits him on the edge of the bed.

“Oh hello, old friend,” Chris groans in relief as he faceplants on his mattress.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Darren teases, though his panic about whether to stay or go is already starting to bubble up again. He knows Chris was the one to mention wanting to have a serious talk about things earlier, but Darren’s also aware that there’s no way in hell that’s happening until both of them get some actual sleep.

“Maybe,” Chris slurs, his voice muffled by the duvet he’s buried his face against.

Darren swallows hard at the reminder that his services are no longer required, but he still plops down on the edge of the bed. “Here, why don’t I just help you out of your shoes and then I can let you get some rest.”

Chris mumbles something indistinct and rolls onto his side, narrowly avoiding kicking Darren in the balls in the process. He seems so out of it that Darren’s not even sure if Chris even knows he’s there. Darren carefully unties the laces on Chris’s sneakers and tugs them off one at a time, deciding to leave Chris’s socks on since he remembers how Chris’s feet are always freakishly cold.

Darren stands with a heavy sigh and unfurls the quilt at the foot of the bed over Chris, tucking it around his body to keep him warm while he sleeps. Satisfied that he’s done his due diligence in getting Chris to bed, he walks over to flip off the overhead light. Chris doesn’t even stir.

Darren would love to surrender to his own bone-weary exhaustion and crawl into bed beside Chris, but he’s still keenly aware that he wasn’t invited. It hurts more than it should, reminding Darren once again that hope is indeed a very dangerous thing, especially when it leads to a big disappointment like having to say goodbye without any real resolution.

He tiptoes over to the side of the bed where Chris is sleeping. “Goodnight, Chris. Sleep well,” he whispers reverently as he bends to press a kiss to Chris’s forehead. He’s just pulled back with the intention of switching off the small lamp on the nightstand when he’s stopped by a hand on his wrist.

“Darren?” Chris murmurs sleepily, dragging his eyes open to peer at him in the dim light.

“Yeah?” is all he manages in reply.

“Where are you going?” Chris wonders innocently, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the inside of Darren’s wrist.

“Uh, I was just turning off the lamp and then... home, I figured?” Darren shrugs, feeling awkward and caught out, though he’s not really sure why since he wasn’t doing anything illicit.

“You are home,” Chris replies, frowning a little in confusion.

“No, honey, we’re at your house, not mine,” Darren explains patiently, assuming Chris is still half asleep.

“I know that,” Chris sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “But this was - _is_ \- your home, too.”

“Oh,” Darren breathes, momentarily overcome. The reality is that he never stopped thinking of it as his home, because home to him was not a place but a person. Hearing Chris confirm it is a whole different story, however.

“Will you stay? We’re supposed to talk,” Chris requests, struggling to keep his eyes open as he blinks heavily up at Darren.

Darren’s nodding before he can even get the words out. “Of course I will,” he breathes, reaching out to stroke Chris’s hair as he considers him. “But no talking tonight, okay? I think what you really need right now is a good night’s sleep.”

“So do you,” Chris encourages. “Right?”

Oh god, yes, does Darren ever need a good night’s sleep. He needs about seventy-two hours of uninterrupted sleep to be anywhere close to equilibrium again. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep,” Darren swears.

Chris gazes up at him expectantly, patting Darren’s side of the bed in silent demand. Darren smiles as he walks to his usual spot with Chris’s eyes sleepily tracking his path around the bed. He toes off his loafers and then unbuckles his belt and tugs off his jeans swiftly before lifting up the corner of the duvet and crawling into bed beside Chris.

“Do you want to be under the blankets properly as well?” Darren offers, since Chris plopped down on top of the duvet before he could pull it down earlier.

“Please,” Chris requests, letting Darren do most of the work of detangling him from the quilt and duvet and then pulling the duvet over both of their bodies.

Chris reaches for him immediately once they are burrowed under the same blanket, arms and legs clinging fiercely while he nuzzles into Darren’s side. “I don’t sleep as well without you,” Chris confesses once he's settled. “I’ve hated sleeping alone.”

“Me too, baby,” Darren murmurs, feeling safe and warm and secure in a way he hasn’t in months.

“So, you’ll stay?” Chris checks one last time. “And tomorrow we’ll talk and then pick up Brian from the vet?”

“Yep, and we’ll get coffee. Loads of coffee. Plus donuts, maybe? Something sugary and delicious, anyway,” Darren slurs, visions of sugarplums _literally_ dancing in his head.

“Hmm no, I want croissants from that yummy bakery down the road. You know, where they have the chocolate and almond ones that you said were better than sex?” Chris comments archly.

Darren gasps in mock horror. “That doesn’t sound like me. Since when would I choose sugary desserts over sex with you? That sounds like an original Christopher Paul Colfer comment if ever there was one,” he teases, though it also has the ring of truth to it.

“You’re right. It was probably me. But regardless, sleep, talk, coffee, croissants, Brian. Possibly in that order?” Chris slurs.

“Shh, trying to work on step one on your list which is sleeping. You should also try it,” Darren encourages, eyes falling closed as he trails his fingertips up and down Chris’s bicep in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm.

“Okay,” Chris sighs. “As long as you’re still going to be here when I wake up?”

“Where else would I go?” Darren whispers. “I’m already home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fic comments are the highlight of any author's day and I'm certainly no exception to this. If you wanted to take a moment to tell me what you thought about this story, that would wonderful! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> [Share Fic on Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/137993370930/already-home)


End file.
